“I’m far from fragile.” I say this in response to each of her tender touches. “I know,” she says softly. “There is quite the difference between fragility and delicacy.” These words are nothing like the hundreds of bubbly ones prior. These words are deliberate, insightful in a way that only she is. “So, you think I’m delicate?” She tilts her head in question. “Don’t you want to be handled with care?”
